


The Way You Wear Your Hat

by lamardeuse



Category: I Spy (1965)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-<em>Barter</em>.  Let's call it an alternate tag for the episode, without the geishas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way You Wear Your Hat

Kelly might have swallowed his tongue for all the choking noises he made when Scotty stepped out of the bathroom for the first time as Ambassador to Whereverthehell.  Then he cleared his throat, bowed and smirked.  “May I say, sir, that that is the most ridiculous disguise I have seen on you since…”

“Since?”

Kelly pretended to think about it.  “You know, I don’t think there really should be a ‘since’ in that sentence.”

“Thank you very much.”  Scotty took a gander at himself in the full-length mirror on the door.  Yeah, okay, so he looked like a ninny, but then who wouldn't wearing a fez with a red pompom on the top?  Besides, it wasn’t as though Kel hadn’t worn some doozies in the past three years.  Scotty’d seen the photos from the retirement party for Kel’s last partner in Edinburgh.  Granted, no one looked good in falsies and a kilt, but _man_.  “If I recall correctly, it was you who suggested I buy this particular hat.”

Kel grinned evilly, and Scotty briefly (very briefly) considered strangling him.  “Yeah,” he said, bouncing a little.  “That was me, wasn’t it?”

Scotty sniffed.  “I should know better than to take sartorial advice from a man who always buys his polo shirts a size too small –”

“I do _not_!” Kelly gusted, outrage seeping from every pore.

Scotty took his time straightening his outfit in the mirror, because this was starting to get fun.  “Oh, come on.  They ride up in the back every time you so much as nod.  Any excuse to show off a little skin and you’re there with the tin cup full of pencils, my friend.”

“That – accusation – is not even worthy of a response,” Kelly intoned, drawing himself up to his full height. 

“Okay, then,” Scotty murmured, suddenly tiring of the banter.  He stepped back from the mirror and headed for the door. “C’mon, let’s go make Uncle Sam proud.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Another case wrapped, another set of bad guys foiled and a valuable defector delivered, and Scotty found he was feeling pretty pleased with himself.  And the clothes were even starting to feel pretty cool – the robes and the long vest kind of flowed when he walked, lengthening his stride, and the hat was even starting to grow on him.  Maybe he’d take it with him and wear it whenever he wanted to piss Kel off.

Kel seemed a little edgy right now, restless; he disappeared into the shower before Scotty  knew what he was doing and emerged in record time, one towel slung low around his hips and another in his hands as he scrubbed at his hair. 

“You goin’ out?” Scotty asked, as casually as he could manage.  Some of that restlessness was transferring to him, making his skin itch.

Kel pinned him with that dark gaze.  “Maybe,” he said.  “Not sure yet.”

“‘Kay,” Scotty said, yawning and shucking his vest.  He could feel Kel’s eyes on him, and that itching feeling turned to a slow burn.  “Think I’ll draw a nice hot bath for myself.”

When he looked up from folding the vest, he saw Kelly looking at him with that sarcastic, crooked grin.  “A bath?”

“What is your objection to a bath, exactly?”

“No objection, no objection at all, sir,” Kel drawled, still grinning.  “I hope you will enjoy it immensely.”

“Well, I’m gratified to hear that,” Scotty said cheerfully, waving to him as he headed for the bathroom.  “I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, touching two fingers to the hat in a mock salute.

“Sure,” Kel said, eyes narrowing, and Scotty felt that twinge of awareness that annoyed him no end.  Kelly was – flexible, they both knew that, though he preferred the company of chicks.  Since flexibility was not a quality that was acknowledged to be a good thing in American spies, they didn’t talk about it.  Ever.  Occasionally, though, when Kel got bored or keyed up, Scotty would feel the blast furnace heat of that Robinson charm turned on him, and he was never going to admit that it made his knees a little weak. 

He did not swing that way, and Kelly knew that; he’d never made an overt move on him, though there were times when Scotty could tell that the least bit of encouragement from him would cause Kel to…well, do whatever flexible guys did to other flexible guys. 

And yeah, he wasn’t so naïve that he didn’t know what those things were.  He read Latin and Ancient Greek, after all.  He just – didn’t want to think about it.  He was close enough to Kelly already, closer than a brother, and he wasn’t sure what would happen if they took that particular step.  In four years he’d come a hell of a long way from the vision he’d had of himself in grad school, and a lot of the change had been due to the man he called his partner, to the life they now shared. 

_Maybe I still want to be able to recognize the guy in the mirror_, he thought, giving his reflection a sidelong glance as he bent to turn on the taps.  Straightening again, he found the man looking back at him was regarding him with a sardonic expression that was a copy of Kel’s winning smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, lifting the robe over his head.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Scotty was expecting Kelly to be long gone by the time he got out of the bath, so when he wrapped a towel loosely around himself and strode out of the bathroom, he nearly stumbled when he saw Kel loosely sprawled across his own bed as he sipped a martini.  He was wearing the soft blue hotel robe, and had one leg bent at the knee, his foot flat on the mattress. 

“Hey,” Scotty heard himself say lamely.  “Thought you were goin’ out.”

“I decided against it,” Kel drawled, taking another sip.

Scotty ignored the plunging sensation in his gut as he drew closer.  Kel smelled clean from his shower, but also like booze, and underneath all that was the sharp tang of sex.  Man, he’d been – before Scotty had come in, maybe only moments before, he’d been –

A sudden, startling image appeared before his eyes:  Kel, robe open, lean body straining as his hand wrapped around his cock, his mouth open and gasping.  He thought he might like that, might like to see Kel lose his cool, that ironclad control –

_No, _he thought, mind scrambling frantically back from the precipice.

That dark gaze rose, then followed him as he sat down on the bed facing Kel.  One of Kel’s eyebrows twitched.  “You’ve still got the fez on, your eminence.”

Scotty’s hand flew to his head.  “Oh,” he said.  God, his brain felt like it was wading through half-frozen molasses.  “Yeah.  I’m growing fond of it, I suppose.”

Kel’s eyes never left him as he sat up.  “I’m growing fond of it, too,” he murmured, and Scotty was never so glad he was sitting down, because his knees turned to water.  As he watched, Kel placed the empty glass on the night stand and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  There wasn’t a lot of space between the beds; their knees were almost touching. 

Scotty screamed at himself to _move, now,_ but he was rooted to the spot, helpless.  An H-bomb could have gone off in the hotel parking lot and he wouldn’t have budged.

Then Kel stood up.  Scotty was eye level with the belt of his robe, so when those long hands went to the knot, he saw them right away.  His own hands shot out to still them.

“Don’t,” he said, the word harsh.  He refused to make it a plea.

Kel sank to his knees, his body pressing between Scotty’s legs, forcing them open.  His hands and forearms rested feather-light on the tops of Scotty’s thighs, burning through the thin terrycloth.  “You’ll like it,” he promised, and there was no humor in him now, only that overwhelming magnetism that had been the deciding factor back when Scotty had been trying to choose between the ivory tower and the life he had now.

It had always been Kel, right from the start.  And that was why he couldn’t give in to him on this last thing.  There’d be nothing left of him if he did.

“I know I will,” Scotty husked.  “I’ll like it too much, Kel.  That’s why I can’t.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Kelly’s mouth, the mask slipping into place.  “You’re not making any sense, Holmes.”

Proud that he was trembling only a little, Scotty reached up and stroked a gentle hand through Kelly’s hair.  “Neither are you, my dear Watson.  This hat is the goofiest thing I’ve ever worn, and it’s turning you on?  You need your head examined.”

That surprised a short bark of laughter out of Kelly, and Scotty felt the vibration of it against his legs.  God.  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted, chuckling.  “Though you’re wrong about the hat.  Combined with the towel, it’s damned sexy.”  His arms left Scotty’s legs, and Scotty felt chilled.

Kel was looking up at him expectantly, and Scotty stared at him for a moment, mystified.  Then he realized he still had his hand buried in Kel’s hair.

“Oh,” he said, pulling back.  “Sorry.”  His fingers brushed Kel’s earlobe by accident as he withdrew, and Kel closed his eyes and emitted a soft curse.

“Sorry,” Scotty said again, feeling uncharacteristically stupid.  Kel rose to his feet and turned away; as if he’d been sitting on a hot plate, Scotty sprang up off the bed too –

– just as Kel spun back around and nearly crashed into him.

“Christ,” Kel gusted, gripping Scotty’s biceps to keep him from toppling.  “What are we, the Keystone Kops?”

Scotty’s gaze rose, locking with Kel’s, and it was like looking down the barrel of a gun, like standing in a moment where everything you were, everything you had been was up for grabs, on the cusp of losing all meaning.

And that was when he knew it was already too late.

Kel’s eyes gentled then, and his hands slid over Scotty’s shoulders and up his neck to cup his face. “You can sock me later,” he murmured, and then he was leaning in and pressing his mouth to Scotty’s.

The voice in Scotty’s head that was chanting_ wrong wrong wrong_ as those thin, mobile lips moved over his gradually faded and died, and the next thing he knew somebody else was whispering _good God more_ and it might have been him but he wasn’t sure.  But to be fair, he wasn’t sure of anything any more; he wasn’t sure those were Kelly’s hands caressing him with something like reverence, wasn’t sure those were his own fingers digging into the material covering Kel’s hips, wasn’t sure that was Kel’s groan vibrating against his teeth.

“You’re not – punching me,” Kel murmured, lips trailing down Scotty’s neck.  “Why aren’t you punching me?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Scotty breathed, hauling Kel’s body closer and feeling Kel’s firm erection press against his own.

Oh, man.  That was – he was – they both were –

With a growl, Kelly fumbled at Scotty’s towel and yanked it off, then shoved him down until he was sitting on the bed again.  “Just let me – please, let me show you – ” he begged, and before Scotty’s usually formidable brain had caught up with the latest events, Kelly was back on his knees and sucking Scotty’s cock into his mouth.

“_God_,” Scotty gasped, and then there was nothing else to say because all the air had suddenly left his lungs, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to remember how to breathe again anyway, so what did it matter?  Despite being a highly paid, jetsetting spy for his country, Alexander Scott tended to date Nice Girls, and Nice Girls just didn’t _do _this kind of thing.  As a result, he’d had his cock sucked – rather inexpertly, if he’d been the kind that told tales – exactly once.  The second time was turning out to leave the first time right in the dust, though, because holy mother of God, Kelly Robinson was _good _at this.  Although he supposed that didn’t surprise him much, because Kel was the kind of man who liked to be good at everything he did.  Really, why would this be any different?

Kel sucked and licked and teased and drove what was left of Scotty’s mind right out of his head, and then he was teetering on the knife edge of coming and he was shaking so hard he thought he might just rattle apart before he got there and oh, oh, _oh _–

He was dimly aware of his boneless body being maneuvered onto the bed, of low murmurs and the tickle of cloth and soft skin against his own, and then there was an undulating, rhythmic pressure against his hip and harsh puffs of air against his neck as Kel brought himself off, body curled and taut against Scotty’s side.

Sucking in a lungful of musk-scented air, Scotty shoved hard at Kelly’s shoulder.  With a startled yelp, Kel fell back onto the bed; when Scotty loomed over him, his eyes glittered with a mixture of hurt and a dozen other emotions Scotty was too addled to name.

“Wait, wait, no,” Scotty murmured soothingly, stroking Kelly’s arm, his surprisingly vulnerable skin; he didn’t know why he’d been expecting the cool touch of armor.  “I just want to – want to – ”  And because he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, he took a deep breath and wrapped his hand around Kel’s cock, stroking the way he himself liked it, because he had a hunch that maybe Kel would like it that way too. 

Kelly’s mouth opened as he gasped for air, hips pistoning helplessly, and he squeezed his eyes shut, straining toward his goal.

“Open your eyes,” Scotty ordered; if Kel was going to fall apart because of him he wanted to see it.

Kel’s eyes opened wide in shock and his gaze locked with Scotty’s, and in that moment Scotty knew he hadn’t lost himself, because he was there in Kel’s eyes.  The years had changed him, made Kelly a part of him, but they’d also made him a part of Kelly, and there was no way to sort out the tangle now, no going back.

And for the first time, Scotty decided he just might be okay with that.

Scotty sped his strokes and Kel arched, back bowing off the mattress.  His fists slammed into the bed and his nostrils flared like a wild mustang’s and in that moment he was the most beautiful thing Scotty had ever seen, and Scotty had been to the Sistine Chapel and watched the sun rise blood-red from the broad stretch of the Pacific. 

When Kelly dropped, spent and panting, to the mattress, Scotty wiped his hand off on the towel, then leaned in for a deep, lingering kiss, his fears dissipating like so much smoke.  He tasted himself in Kel’s mouth and shuddered.

“No going back,” he sighed, more to himself than Kel.

Kel slung an arm around the back of his neck and grinned lazily.  “Fine with me,” he murmured, pulling him down into another kiss.

Somehow they both settled under the covers, and as Kel reached over to turn out the light, Scotty mumbled, “Why now?”

Propped on one elbow, Kel looked down at Scotty in the dim light.  He raised his other hand and brushed his fingers over the hat, which Scotty only now realized he'd been wearing all along.  "Guess I'm a sucker for your sartorial elegance, my man."  The voice was sharp, but the gaze was fond, and Scotty sucked in a breath.

"Yeah," he said, closing his eyes and tugging at Kelly's arm until it was a solid band around his chest.  "Guess I kind of like those tiny shirts of yours, too."

  


**Author's Note:**

> First published April, 2006.


End file.
